Happy Birthday to You: Two and a Half!

Dear Anabella,

Today you turned two and a half years old.

It's been six months since my last birthday letter and needless to say you're still very cute.

See all the diapering paraphernalia in the above photo? We're almost done with it! It's been a real test of our parenting patience because, as you have been with most of your developmental milestones, you're keen to do it your own way, on your own terms, and most importantly on your own time. But after countless moppings of countless floors, you're almost there.

This past week as been one of the toughest yet in my rather short parenting portfolio because as you got closer and closer to being diaper-free, you suddenly decided that all this potty business was a lot of work and it would be much simpler if you just didn't pee at all. Ever. So you held it and you held it (15 hours of no peeing at all on one tortuous day). But then, as soon as I realized I just had to leave you alone, you decided you were ready. You're not 100 percent there yet, but you're close.

It's worth jumping for.


Potty trials aside you remain the sweetest human I've ever met. You're funny and kind, and empathetic. You are always quick to ask, "Are you okay?" to anyone who seems like maybe they are not. One of my favourite Bellaisms at the moment is when you proclaim that you're going to do something and then you look at me and with an upward flip of your chin you say, "You okay with that?" Why yes, adorable child, I am.


Tomorrow we're heading away to the beach for a full week and I can't wait to have you all to myself for nine days. Away from the bustle of our city life, I plan to relax and drink you in. You're changing so fast these days that I bet you have a few tricks up your sleeve that I haven't had the pleasure of discovering yet. It's okay to keep your secrets for a while, believe me when I tell you, I live for the moments when you open up and share them with me.


I love you.

Mommy

If I Could Turn Back Time

It occurs to me as I sit down to write that I almost never have anything to say here that's not at least indirectly about my daughter. It also occurs to me that I should think about changing that fact. Not because I'm worried about boring you (if I am, go away), or because I think I'll ever run out of things that I want to say or share about her (never gonna happen) but because one day she's going to have a full life of her own and she simply won't be around as much to provide such a wide and compelling (it is to me - shut up) body of subject matter.

This week we moved one step closer to that inevitable and rather ominous day when my baby flutters from the nest. Dramatic? Yes. But I have to make these stories interesting somehow.

This week Bella moved out of her (and my) beloved toddler room at daycare and started preschool (same daycare, different room, new routines, fewer and different teachers). Because I'm prone to rambling - if you're reading me you already know this - I'm going to make a really concerted effort to keep this post short and sweet. In fact, I'm going to leave it up to one picture (truly worth a thousand words) and one anecdote. The two together, I believe, sum up exactly how this milestone of a transition has gone so far.

The Photo:

Taken by her Daddy on her first day, in response to my question, "Bella, are you a little nervous for your very first day of preschool?" This is Bella's way of saying, "Oh HELLS no. BRING IT."

The Anecdote:

It's dinnertime on her first full day in her new "classroom." The whole family is sitting together chatting about our day.

Me to Bella: "Did you have fun at preschool today, Bella?"

Bella to Me: "Yeeees, I had FUN at pweschool tahday."

Bella: Pauses for a beat, thinking...

Bella to Me: "But tomorrow I'm going to be a toddler again, right Mummy?"

Me: Heart explodes into four hundred thousand shards as I realize that in fact she is not.

Jane's (Ok, Bella's) Addiction

I have made a huge mistake.

But wait, before I get to my miserable parenting failure, let's talk for a moment about Crown's parenting success, which happened first (and which ultimately I will blame for my own mistake). I'll repeat, Crown had a brilliant idea, I tried to copy it several months later only to have it blow up in my face. Yes, you heard it here first. I'll give you a moment to chuckle about it. THAT'S ENOUGH, MOVING ON.

Let's give Crown his moment to shine. A couple of weeks before we took our winter vacation to Dominican Republic, he downloaded several episodes of Dora and Sesame Street onto his iPhone. He thought it would be a great source of entertainment (read : distraction) for Bella on the plane and might come in handy on the vacation as well, if she started to get fussy or bored. He was correct on all counts. The iPhone episodes were a God-send. Even though ultimately Bella was excellent on both plane rides, the shows did help keep her in her seat and it did keep me from having to play with stickers for the entire flight.

Oh, but one thing, the stickers were my idea. And they were also brilliant. The only problem with the stickers is that at her age (just under two at the time), she needed one of us to actually remove the stickers from the page. This gets boring really, really fast for a full-grown adult. And it NEVER GETS OLD FOR A TODDLER. You catch my drift?

ANYHOO. Crown's iPhone kids shows = brilliant. We still use them from time to time and generally they are great. Except for in the car. Because in the car they make her vomit profusely and violently and yes we learned that the hard way. Yes we did.

Fast forward a few months ahead to a faithful day in March when I dropped my cellphone in the daycare yard and it smashed into a pulp and lost all my contacts. Bummer, yes? NO! Because that allowed me to get an iPhone of my own and I am in love with my iPhone and I'm not afraid to say it. I love you iPhone. I love you so much.

Bella also took an interest in my iPhone and I thought it was really cute. She actually learned to turn it on and find my contacts and make calls to people. Hee hee, isn't that cute? OMG it's sooooo cute. I thought it was soooo cute and that she was such a genius about being able to use it so easily, I mean, she's not even TWO AND A HALF and she can use it almost as well as I can. It's amazing! She's advanced! Her brilliance should be encouraged. At this rate she'll be developing new technologies for NASA by her tween years!

So what did I do? I learned to put the phone on Airplane Mode, so that she couldn't call and bother my contacts anymore (sorry, Barberella my hair salon, that person that called you 40 times and just said "hello, hello, hello" into the phone? That was my toddler. Please don't take it out on my hair.) I got a case for my phone, so she wouldn't be quite as likely to guarantee it the same fate as my last phone. And then, and here's where the colossal FAIL kicks in, I downloaded her several toddler-friendly apps and let her at it.

Sigh.

For a while it was great. It started out slow. "I want Mommy's phone. Mommy, I want your phone." It was a way to get her to stop focusing on the television. "Mommy, can I have your phone, I want Mommy's phone."

Haha. "She sure loves it. Ha. Cute. Ha?"

I now know she was just humouring me by calling it "Mommy's" phone. As soon as there were flash cards that made actual animal sounds and games that allowed her to interact with Dora and Boots, that phone was no longer "Mommy's" at all. But for a while she kept up the pretense that it was mine. Soon the asking became demanding. And soon the demanding became full-on spazzing. Not just when she suddenly wanted the phone, but every single time she saw it.

"MOMMEEEEEE"S PHOOOONE. I NEEEEED IT. I NEEEEED IT MOMMY!"

And now? NOW? Now I can't even pull it out when she's in the same room without handing it over. This means I can't use the phone ever when she's with me. Which, unless I'm at work, is ALWAYS. And when we're together it has to remain on Airplane mode so that when she gets it (and she always gets it) she can't disturb my friends and colleagues with her random texts and calls. So, essentially, it is not a phone at all anymore. It's Bella's expensive and sophisticated play thing.

That's right. I am the enabler of a toddler with a serious iPhone addiction. And I want to free her of it, I really do. Sometimes I get tough about it. "NO Bella. Not right now. Mommy is using the phone. This is MOMMY'S phone. You have your books and toys. Play with those."

And you want to know what happens? Well I'm about to show you. I assure you, no toddlers were hurt in the making of this video. It's quite possible that a mother was slightly injured. After you've watched this you may laugh at my parenting fail for one full minute and we'll never speak of it again.

You've Got a Friend

One of the most amazing things that Bella has learned at daycare is the concept of friendship. She has a little gaggle of gorgeous children that she's been together with now for a year and a half. At daycare all the kids are referred to as "friends" in their daily language and so Bella has been talking about her daycare "friends" for many months.

She definitely has favourites. Two boys, in particular, Duncan and Carter, I'd consider to be her current BFFs. The three have been together since the first trying days of the infant room right through until two weeks ago when Carter (probably one of Bella's favourite people ever, she actually said "Carter" before she said "Mama," no joke) was graduated over to the preschool group. I felt sad that the two would be separated for a while and worried that Bella would be upset, but kids are resilient as we know, and though she asked about him the first few mornings he was gone - "Carter is in preschool Mommy?" - she mostly took it all in stride and seems to know that they will be reunited soon.

And by soon, I mean a matter of weeks! My little baby is starting preschool on July 5. PRESCHOOL. Which, though she's moving over a little young, and I know it's just a fancy title for the daycare group, still means that she is in the realm of being a school-aged kid. This makes me feel a little dizzy. And I'm sure that the speed at which my little baby will develop once she moves over with the "big kids" won't do much to sooth my spinning head.

The transition itself also has me a little stressed. She didn't deal that well with her move from the infant to toddler room, and she's a kid that is very set in her routines. I anticipate that there will be some tearful mornings for a while. But I'm also hopeful that because she's so much more communicative now, and able to reason a little more than she was last summer, this move will go a little smoother. Plus, she's moving with Duncan (BFF #2) and Erin (another favourite "friend") so I'm sure that they will all provide each other with some sense of stability and comfort. And of course, she'll be reunited with Carter.

Though Carter may be Bella's favourite human friend, I think this might be a good time to point out that she's got another very good friend in her life. One that has become a daily playmate, a special constant, a protector, a furry force to feed, cuddle and torment. I was so worried when Bella was born that she and my fur baby would not get along. Thankfully my worries were entirely and astronomically unfounded.


As it turns out, my formerly crusty and kid-hating pooch is just a big softy after all. He's understanding, gentle and patient with her, even when she's trying to shove a sticker down his throat or use his curly tail as a teething toy. Just as any great friend should be.

Here's proof:

Yesterday

Let's just get it out there - I've been terribly remiss about writing. I'm now going to let myself feel guilty about it for one entire minute.

...

There. We're past it, right?

Here's the thing. Yesterday was one of those days that I just have to get down in writing so that when I'm old and grey and reminiscing about the wonderful days when my family was young and the world was still so full of possibility and promise, I will remember that sometimes, those young, possibility-filled days were just ass. Pure and simple.

The day started off normal enough. The morning routine went down as usual, except that I was a little extra stressed because today the fur baby, Momes, was going in for an operation. If you know the Momes you'll understand that this is a very serious situation for his breed and for him especially (a dog with 9 lives, most of which he's already used up). He's likely under the knife right now and I don't care to discuss it. Will update later - moving on.

So I'm on edge about that. But we get ourselves together and we make it to daycare and work without incident. Sweet.

Morning at work goes as well as possible for someone who essentially feels like she's juggling three full time jobs. Job #1 - parent. Job # 2 - my job. Job #3 - trying to buy a new house. Whatevs, we're dealing as well as can be expected, if anyone has figured out the best way to work three full-time jobs at once without feeling a little STRESSED about it. Leave a comment.

I was actually quite excited about my lunch hour! Tuesdays are my riding lesson days and this means that I don't go to the gym on my lunch break. Oh, the possibilities! I can walk around, I can shop, I can eat somewhere out of the office. It's the best lunch hour of my week. Yesterday I decided that since pay day approaches and somehow I managed to keep a couple hundred bucks in my account, I'd treat myself to a little retail therapy to cheer myself up and relieve some stress.

Off to Zara! New shirt. So lovely. And you know what? Retail therapy really worked. I felt better. I'd budgeted for it and thought about it since my last pay. I was proud of myself for limiting it to just one, reasonably-priced item that I really liked. I would wear it when I went for drinks with friends on Friday! It was all coming together.

Back to the office for a busy afternoon of meetings. That actually helped because it kept my mind off the impending dog surgery and let me relax a little and talk creative business with my amazing colleagues. Thank God for them, they really do always help to make my day. But as the day wound down, the stress came back. By the time I was leaving the office, I felt a little nauseous from it all, I get spacey and tired when I'm stressed and I start to do stupid things.

Stupid things like leaving my brand-new shirt on the subway.

Fuck.

$40 dollars and the joy of a new item that was well earned and well deserved. FLUSH.

In over 10 years of commuting on the TTC I have NEVER done that before. Well, maybe the odd umbrella or pair of gloves, but never an entire shopping bag! Ever. I was so mad at myself when I realized it and SO utterly bummed. My entire so-so day was ruined. Silly to get upset over a $40 shirt, but it was the last one in my size. It was so pretty. And really? I don't have another $40 to replace it and I certainly didn't have an extra $40 to LEAVE ON THE SUBWAY.

So I get home and allow myself a five minute cry. Then it's time to suck it up because I have riding to get to for 7:30pm. A jumping lesson so I can't be despondent and distracted. I must be focused and eager. I make it to the barn and already am feeling better. I'm always cheered up by my horses. I'm assigned to one of my very favourites, a big, beautiful mare named Seven. Things are looking up! The lesson was great fun. We jumped verticals and rode a course. As always, after class I felt relaxed, happy and tired. Ready to go home, go to bed with my book and prepare for the tense day ahead (today).

Jump in the car, whip home, go to pull into my underground parking garage. The door is open, which is odd, but I pull in only to find a woman standing on the ramp waving her arms at me to stop and pull over. WTF? I roll down my window, get hit with a wave of stink, and she walks up and says, "Smell that? There's a skunk trapped down here. You might want to think about parking elsewhere so your car doesn't get sprayed."

A fucking skunk? In the UNDERGROUND parking lot? That's right. You can't make this shit up.

For a moment, I consider just parking there anyway. What are the chances that he'll go anywhere near my car? So I pull forward a bit 'til I can see my spot. And what is walking around frantically in circles IN my spot? Correct. Senior Skunk. I back the fuck out of the parking garage. NO WAY am I risking getting sprayed by skunk on a day that already stinks.

Though I briefly considered moving the car to the visitor lot, I opt for the street instead because the skunk is down there, he's pissed and who is to say that he won't run to the visitors section? The way my day is going, I'm getting sprayed for sure. I park on the street, go home and go to bed.

This morning? $30 ticket. But the car smells great.

Please send good vibes my way that my string of bad luck is over? My Momes needs all the help he can get.